A Minecrafter's Diaries
by Hyperdron
Summary: You thought Minecraft was easy to understand... Welcome to the real world. Kind of. Angry sheep, nuclear bombs, flying pyromaniacs and dancing skeletons are not things you would expect walking round. But Zek's seen them, along with his friends and mentor, Tom. It's been, well... life-changing. And it's about to get worse...
1. Part 1: Introduced to a Creeper

It was daytime in the world of blocks as me and my mentor, Tom, strolled happily through a forest of green hills and rushing rivers.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tom said quietly over the chirping of birds in the trees. "Breathe that fresh air in, Zek. It's the best you'll ever have."

As you will have probably guessed, I'm Zek, a Minecrafter with a crave for electrical contraptions and the world in general. I guess I had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and I then met Tom.

We had been partners as soon as we caught each other's eyes, Tom being the more intelligent and more experienced Minecrafter than I but lacking in toughness, and I having a large brain full of adventure and clever contraptions. I had no name at that point. After seeing me around and realising my personality, Tom nicknamed me Zek - and the name stuck.

Anyways, it was midday, so we had already become friends within 3 hours. Now, as we searched for a suitable place to build our first shelter together, we heard a strange sound behind us - almost like hissing.

Tom froze. "Don't move," he whispered.

I felt something damp and smooth brush past my shoulder. It walked into my field of vision. And I gasped in shock.

For there was a four-legged, snake-skinned monster in front of me, with black, lidless eyes and a gaping mouth. Suddenly, it turned. It had heard my intake of breath. We had been discovered.

Tom realised something bad would happen if he didn't do something fast. So he bravely stalked up to the creature, and then said in a hamster-like voice, "Hello little fella..."

And he touched the monster with his wooden sword.

The resulting explosion sent us both reeling into the dust, dead from the blast. After we had respawned, I punched Tom for the wonderful surprise I had experienced.

That was my first meeting with a Creeper. And believe me, I never want to meet another one again.


	2. Part 2: Punching Trees Ruins Your Life

"To start our adventure," Tom explained while we scoured the horizon for a rest on a nearby hill, "We need to build a shelter. We're looking for a hill because if we find a good cave round the area, three quarters of our home are naturally built. However, we need to harvest some blocks to build our other quarter. That's where trees come in."

I nudged Tom's shoulder and pointed to a tall mountain just round the corner. Tom nodded. "Perfect," he said. "If we just find some trees, we can start harvesting."

"And how would we do that?" I asked Tom.

"We punch them."

I let that sink in. "So... manual labour?" I enquired.

"Of course," Tom said. "We punch the trees and harvest the wood."

"So..." I continued, "We find a tree, punch it, and we get wood?"

"It's not that quick, but yes," Tom confirmed.

With that over, we hurried over to the mountain and almost immediately found a perfect cave.

"Right," Tom said, pointing towards a nearby pine tree. "Go punch the tree's trunk and harvest some wood."

"Can't we use an axe?" I asked weakly.

"We need wood to craft it, and wood to make the thing we craft it with. Now go on, don't be soft."

I meekly turned to the tree and flung a random fist at it. My arm flared with pain as the bark impacted with the force of a fist smashing into a tree.

"ARGH!" I cried out.

"Try tapping it gentler," Tom called from inside the cave. "AND NO RUGBY TACKLING!"

I hastily unwrapped my arms from around the tree and sighed, sending a puff of air out of my mouth. "Darn," I muttered.

"Don't you have a wooden sword?" I shouted. "Can't we harvest that?"

"It was lost in the creeper explosion. Now, NO EXCUSES, AND GET BACK TO WORK!"

I sighed melodramatically. "Darn," I said again.

I began to test Tom's theory - and to my unboundless surprise, it worked. By the end of the day, I had collected enough wood to create 8 full stacks of planks.

"Perfect," Tom grinned when I returned to the shelter he had hewn. Then he noticed a crimson liquid seeping slowly down the edge of the materials.

"What's this?" Tom asked, pointing at the thing in question.

I sheepishly pulled my hands out from behind my back to reveal a pair of cut and bruised limbs.

"Clever," Tom remarked hesitantly.


	3. Part 3: Murdering is Baa'd For You

There was a sudden noise from outside our cave. It sounded like something was trying to say 'bad' but couldn't say the 'd'.

"What the Nether was that?!" I yelped, thinking it was a monster.

"It was a mob," Tom confirmed. "A.k.a a monster."

I almost fainted.

"It's called a sheep."

"What's a sheep?" I asked, having no idea what a sheep was, whether it would bite me or if it drank radioactive green liquid.

"A white, fluffy mammal which walks on four legs, goes 'baa' randomly every few seconds, and has the brainless incapability to attack people."

"Is that safe?" I asked warily.

"Yes," Tom said. "In fact, I think we should go and see them."

At that moment it was sunset, so the world was bathed in an eerie orange and pink glow. Right outside our cave was the sheep in question.

It was actually a huge flock. One of them looked boredly in our direction, and then continued to munch on some nearby grass.

"These mobs are in fact very useful," Tom said. "I'll show you how in a quick demonstration." He flicked out from his inventory a stone sword he had crafted in the cave and swung it at the nearest sheep, scoring a large gash in the mob's flesh. It bleated in alarm and ran around in circles. The other sheep carried on munching, regardless of what was going on.

Tom dispatched the head of the injured animal as it ran towards him. "See how stupid they can be," Tom said. "But look at this." He bent down to the limp figure and crudely sheared all of its wool off with the stone sword.

"This is the prize," Tom crowed triumphantly, holding the bloodstained item into the air. "We can make a bed with this wool!"

"That doesn't sound very interesting," I cut in, "considering you just murdered an innocent being."

"They were made for our benefit," Tom said, throwing me another stone sword. "Now get killing."

I stared at the sword in my hands. Its dull glint stared back at me.

I carried on staring.

The sword carried on staring.

We both stared at each other.

I stared at Tom to get him involved.

"What?" he said.

I stared back at the sword.

The sword whacked me in the face.

To be precise, a sheep's head accidentally hit the flat part of the sword's blade and smashed the opposite side into my features. Now I was angry.

"DIE!" I yelled, slashing and stabbing at a whirl of white wool as I took revenge on my pain. The rest of the flock ran away as I felled eight sheep in my madness.

"Very good," Tom observed. "But your war cry needs to be more complex. 'DIE!' is too simple."

With that, we took the wool and Tom crafted it into two exquisite beds, with sheets, duvets and anything else essential for a bed. And as the sun fell from sight, we fell asleep.

Little did we know that the escaped part of the flock were returning. With plans.

It was all over in 25 seconds. The sheep smothered and suffocated us with cries of 'baa!' or 'baaaaa!' or 'baaaaaaaaaaaaa *cough* *cough*', and we died.

We respawned at the spawn point, miles away from our cave, feeling thoroughly confused.

"If we died," Tom muttered, "we should have returned to our beds..."

I found remnants of sheep wool all over my body. I checked Tom and he was covered in it too. I pointed it out.

"Now what do you think happened to the beds?" I said.

Tom sighed. "They must have come back for the rest of their friends," he replied.


	4. Part 4: Bones Go 'Clack' at Night

So now we were stuck outside. In the dark. With no protection.

Or light.

Because the sun had decided enough was enough and had run off somewhere, persuading the moon to be a substitute. And it was a pretty bad substitute.

The dim glow given off by the useless white ball showed us no way to return to our safe, angry-sheep-infested home. So Tom grabbed some wood, fashioned a crafting table, made a wooden pick, nabbed some stone, crafted a furnace, and charcoaled some more wood. He made a torch and we sat round it.

There was silence apart from a faint 'baa' of an angry sheep that was probably wondering where we went.

"We messed that up," Tom muttered.

*Clack*.

Tom paused. "Did you say something?" he asked me.

*Clack*.

"No," I answered.

*Clack clack*.

"Why?"

*Clack, clack clack clack, clack clack*.

"I can hear skeletons," Tom said.

"You mean inanimate objects with a personality?"

*Clackety clackety clack*.

"An evil personality," Tom said.

*Cluck cluck cluck*.

"I HEARD THEM!" I screamed.

"Shut up!" Tom hissed. "That was a chicken. Got a sword handy?"

*WHOOOSH!*

Tom was answered with an arrow that sailed right over his head.

"Blind and deaf skeleton," Tom deduced.

"I could say that for every skeleton we meet."

"Nah, some of them just don't have their heads screwed on right."

There was a sudden rustle in the bushes, and a skeleton leapt out. It had no face. But as it ran past us, we saw its face - on the opposite side it was meant to go on.

It ran into the trees opposite, giggling manically, ignoring us.

"See what I mean?" Tom said after the troubling laughing had faded away.

"That was a blind, deaf and completely idiotic skeleton," I corrected.

There was another rustle in the bushes.

"Deaf and blind," Tom predicted.

"I HEARD THAT."

Tom suddenly leapt to his feet and scanned the surrounding forest.

"JUST BECAUSE WE DON'T HAVE EARS, THAT DOESN'T MEAN WE CAN'T HEAR YOU..."

Tom sat down again with a hopeless look on his face.

"...We're surrounded by around 50 skeletons, all equipped with exploding arrows," Tom sighed. "It's the end... for the third time..."

"STAND, MY BRETHEN."

Tom put his head in his hands. "That voice means we're in even more trouble."

All around them, skeleton heads and their charged bows raised up and out of the shrubbery, showing that we were, in fact, completely surrounded.

Then a human-shaped silhouette rose up in front of us and pointed a shadowy finger at us. "Kill them," it growled.

The sun had just peeked its head over the horizon. Too bad we weren't alive to see it.

A few bangs, and it was over.


	5. Part 5: Avoid Flying Pyromaniacs

Whilst the skeletons burnt in the sunlight (which was, unfortunately, another thing the useless white ball couldn't do), Tom and I wondered what to do about our angry-sheep-infested home.

"What we need is TNT," Tom suggested. "We blow the whole place to kingdom come, obliterate the sheep and reclaim our cave."

"Which will most likely have become a lot bigger," I pointed out.

"That's an improvement," Tom said.

The sudden loud bang of TNT exploding launched us around 5 feet in the air from surprise.

"Where did that come from?!" I shouted.

Tom pointed to a large amount of TNT flying in our direction.

I quickly dug a deep hole and covered it with the harvested blocks to protect myself from the blasts. Tom forgot.

I had to sit there in the dark, listening to the frantic cries of my friend as he desperately dodged the rain of explosives. Then the bangs stopped.

I carefully removed the blocks above me and climbed up out of the hole, only to see Tom still running around like a demented chicken.

"Stop that!" I shouted to him.

He pointed to the sky and stuttered, "Th-th-th-that p-pyrom-maniac is f-f-flying towards m-me!"

"Don't stutter, it's bad for you!" I reprimanded. Then I translated his exclamation.

I quickly looked up and indeed saw a flaming person soaring through the air, right in Tom's direction, grinning like setting himself on fire was the best thing he'd done in his life. He held Flint and Steel in one hand and a block of TNT in the other.

"PYROMANIA!" he yelled as he 'accidentally' landed just in front of Tom and 'accidentally' set him on fire.

Tom continued to run around like a demented chicken, but this time with more purpose to find a nearby river or lake.

The fiery young person that had just attacked Tom stood up and dusted the burning ashes off his red jacket. "That was fun," he said to himself, whistling happily.

"FUN?! IS THAT YOUR IDEA OF FUN?!"

Tom stormed up to the person, dripping with water, and punched him in the mouth. The person recoiled surprisingly quickly.

"WATER!" the person screeched, running off in search of fire.

Tom grinned evilly. "Payback time," he laughed menacingly.

He handed me a bucket.

"Where did you get this?" I asked him.

"The guy dropped it," Tom said, pointing to the rapidly receding figure. "I got rid of the lava in it."

"That quickly?"

"I move at the speed of light. Perhaps I didn't tell you. Now, let's get some water."

I didn't believe him about the speed of light thing, but I could see what Tom was getting at. Him and I both scooped up a full bucket and charged after the fleeing pyromaniac. We used the forest's trees and our green clothing as camofluage to sneak up unspotted as he stopped for a quick breather.

His head was smashed in between two walls of thrown water and the person fell down, gurgling as if he was being strangled.

"What the Nether are you doing?" I asked him, walking out from behind a tree.

"Yeah, same," Tom repeated, coming from behind the opposite tree from mine.

The guy looked Tom up and down, and then grinned in excitement. "Give me all your gunpowder, talking creeper!" he demanded, hitting Tom with his Flint and Steel.

"You shouldn't have worn the creeper outfit, Tom," I sighed as Tom slowly burnt to death.

The pyromaniac overheard me. "Wait..." he started. "Was that a... person?"

"And a nice one too," I groaned.

"Damn it!" the strange person exclaimed. "By the way, my name's Ollie - pleased to meet you."

"Zek," I simply replied.

"And who was the dead person?"

"Tom."

"Damn it."

"What?"

"I left my napalm back on the shelf."

"That's a good thing."

"Not for a pyromaniac."

Then we both fell silent as Tom returned. Without a word, he strolled up to Ollie and said, "You have a lot to learn."

And then promptly strangled him.


	6. Part 6: Zombie Farm Got Bigger Overnight

So with the addition of a tag-along member, I now had to prevent Tom and Ollie from murdering each other. It was difficult.

Tom's only set of clothes was the creeper costume. And although it meant creepers weren't as suspicious of us, Ollie kept on trying to kill him for gunpowder, explosions or just the sheer fun of it.

"WILL YOU PLEASE STOP THAT?!" Tom screeched as Ollie smashed him in the face with a nuclear bomb, me luckily having run a safe distance away.

The explosion left a wonderfully big hole that revealed something very awkward - a room made of stone bricks, buried in the ground under part of the wrecked sea. And I saw a staircase with a monster spawner at the top. Some feeling emanated from that structure that made me want to run from it and never look back.

Tom ran past me and didn't look back at me. I wondered if he had seen the room and was freaked out by it as well. Then Ollie passed me in hot pursuit of Tom with a lava bomb loaded in a bazooka.

Ah. Right. I quickly grabbed the bazooka from Ollie and fired it at him instead.

"What the-" Ollie exclaimed as he was engulfed in lava with Tom. Then I saw him swimming happily around in it as he burnt to a crisp and died, charging back up to me a few minutes later.

"Thank you for making me happy," Ollie said, patting me on the back affectionately.

Tom arrived another minute later, and we all continued on our present path, Tom and Ollie negotiating a temporary truce until it became night.

"Why night?" Tom asked.

"Because these woods aren't exactly safe," Ollie said, "so I usually commit explosive suicide when the sun goes down, and I would suggest you guys do too."

After that remark we confiscated all of his pyromanic items.

Then we gave them back as we heard many strange, throaty groans.

"It's the zombies..." Ollie murmured, setting himself on fire.

"Tom! Grab his bazooka!" I yelled as a zombie suddenly leapt out of the dense shrubbery.

"WHAT?!" Tom shouted.

I punched the zombie. "Shoot the zombie with Ollie's bazooka!" I cried.

"WHAT?!" Tom shouted again. I then noticed he had his fingers in his ears.

I then heard the sound he was trying to block out. Millions of evil groans, sounds of millions of footfalls against the hard dirt - the noise of doom.

And then I saw them. Exactly like it was with the skeletons. Millions of pairs of eyes stared at us from the foliage, unblinking. They stepped forward.

I stabbed the zombie I had been attacking with a conveniently placed stick right next to my feet. It fell to the ground and died.

Now that my arms were free, I grabbed Ollie's abandoned bazooka and loaded it with a couple of hundred blocks of C4.

"You're all going down!" I shouted, firing in every direction. Everywhere I looked another pair of eyes disappeared to be exploded by the ammunition I was firing at them.

For some reason, while I was shooting the zombies, I seemed to enjoy the feeling of shooting stuff with a bazooka. I realised that this was what probably made Ollie a maddening pyromaniac.

So I stopped.

I grabbed Tom's wrist and blasted the ground with as much C4 that I could. The explosion propelled us through the air and we landed safely on a nearby mountain. The sun rose to find the carnage of the night's work, decided enough was enough, and carried on rising.

We watched the zombies burn in the light from our perfect vantage point.

"Ollie will feel so terrible when we tell him what we just did," I grinned.

"He seemed frightened about nothing," Tom said. "Scaredy-cat."

Then we were suddenly hit in the back by a couple of arrows. We turned and found some skeletons hiding in the shade of a tree behind us.

"SKELETONS UNDER THE TREE! SKELETONS UNDER THE TREE!" Tom yelled, jumping off the mountain and dying.

I dispatched the skeleton's heads with a handy sword that Tom had dropped in his haste and collected their dropped treasure. I received a bow, 3 arrows and 2 bones.

I looked over the edge of the mountain to see where Tom had fallen and saw a hoard of angry sheep staring up at me.


	7. Part 7: The Great Pole of Suicide

I waited to see whether Tom would get back to the mountain. After he hadn't turned up for 3 hours, I began to yell.

"Tom!" I shouted. "I've found our cave!"

The forest spread in front of me was silent.

"Tom? TOM! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

Still no answer.

"TOOOOOOOOO-"

"What?!"

Tom was standing right behind me. I almost jumped out of my skin.

"Where were you?" I asked.

"Here and there," Tom answered vaguely. "Mostly there."

"Where's there?" I enquired.

"Somewhere in the vicinity of that giant pole of obsidian over there." Tom gestured aimlessly towards a large 1-block wide structure that reached through the clouds, piercing the empty sky above it.

"And what were you doing over there?" I asked.

"Throwing myself off the pole. I gave up on life for a few minutes, then decided to become a mushroom, but then Ollie ate me, so I didn't do it again."

"And where is Ollie?"

"Get back here, you naughty creeper! I want your gunpowder!" A bazooka lined itself above the edge of the mountain and right at Tom's head. There was a shot.

Tom and I ducked and watched the nuclear bomb sail into the distance. "Lucky break," Tom muttered.

I went and kicked the bazooka out of the owner's hand and off the mountain. I heard the shout, "NO! MY LOVELY BAZOOKA!" and about two seconds later, a sickening 'splat'.

"Erm..."

"Yes, Tom?" I said.

"Did Ollie just kill himself for the sake of his bazooka?"

"...Yep."

"Now I'm very worried."

We sat down and waited for Ollie to come back. He remained absent.

I became bored. "Shall we search for him ourselves?" I asked.

"Perhaps," Tom said. So we started walking. Very soon, we heard the faint sound of explosives being detonated, and afterwards the cry, "WHY WON'T IT BLOW UP, DAMN IT!"

"I believe I now know where the idiot is," Tom said, hurrying into the depths of the forest. I quickly followed.

"IT'S NOT BLOWING UP! WHY?!"

"Shut up, Ollie!" Tom shouted, rushing into the clearing and stopping dead.

"Oh, gods..." he murmured. I caught up with him and saw why.

The ground was nowhere to be seen apart from a jagged floor of bedrock. And Ollie was standing on a lone block in the middle of this pit, next to a giant tower of obsidian, trying in vain to smash it with his hand.

"WHY CAN'T IT BLOW UP?!" Ollie screeched, punching the block harder with every syllable. "WHY CAN'T I USE MY WONDERFUL FLINT AND STEEL?! WHY?!"

"Calm down!" we shouted to him.

"NOT UNTIL THIS BLOCK IS DEFEATED!"

"It's obsidian!" Tom hollered. "It cannot be broken by explosion - AND DOING IT BY HAND WILL TAKE EVEN LONGER!"

"What's even longer than forever?" Ollie asked, not moving from breaking the block.

"I don't care!" Tom replied, his voice hoarse from all of the shouting. "JUST STOP BREAKING THE DAMN BLOCK!"

Then two spectacular happenings occurred. The first was the sound of someone screaming while jumping off a really high suicide pole. The second was actually someone falling from a really high suicide pole, screaming with delight. This person landed on the block Ollie was standing on, pushed Ollie into the sea of bedrock, and took a rather substantial amount of falling damage - which was somehow conveyed to Ollie, killing him.

Tom groaned.

"What an awesome way to make an entrance," I sighed. Then I added, "Warning: sarcastic comment."

The person noticed that he was standing on a single block above a terrifyingly high drop. However, he seemed more occupied with the absence of ladders from the pole.

"Who destroyed my ladders?" he shouted. "Who?"

"Ollie definitely knows how to upset people," Tom muttered.

"Yeah," I said, tutting. "Terrible."

"WHOEVER DESTROYED MY LADDERS SHALL FEEL THE WRATH OF MY SWORD IN THEIR STOMACH!"

"I hope Ollie returns then," I remarked. I turned to speak to Tom, but I saw the look on his face as he gazed at the angry human in a form of thought.

"Sword..." he murmured.

I sighed and decided to gather some wood from the few trees scattered around. I left Tom - bad idea. As soon as I had walked twenty paces away, he started singing loudly. And it was terribly out of tune.

"Do you like my sword sword sword

"My diamond sword sword,

"You cannot afford ford

"For my diamond sword sword,

"Even if you could could,

"I have a patent!"

I ran away and bashed straight into Ollie, who was coming the other way, singing the same song. And his pitch was even worse.

"I'M GONNA

"SWING SWING SWING MY SWORD SWORD

"WHENEVER I GET BORED BORED

"I CAN SWING MY SWORD SWORD

"I CAN SWING MY SWORD SWORD!"

Great, I thought to myself. I'm stuck between two singing 'I Can Swing My Sword' maniacs.

"I've got to go get some wood," I mumbled inaudibly, stumbling hurriedly away from the terrible noise.

As soon as it's quietened down, I'll return, I said to myself.

As soon as I returned, I realised they were singing the 10 hour version. I took the blocks of wood I had harvested and whacked them over their heads.

That should shut them up, I thought to myself.

The mysterious pole maker was still upset about his ladders, but had now noticed the lack of ground between him and safety.

"WHERE DID ALL OF THE EARTH GO?" he yelled. "IT'S MEANT TO BE RIGHT HERE, NOT DOWN THERE!"

"This is way too loud," I muttered to myself, clasping my ears. "I hope nothing else goes wrong."

Ollie regained consciousness and started singing about the wonders of TNT.

I got the wood back out.

After digging up a bit of dirt, I began to build a walkway to the pole maker and his lonely block.

"Thank you!" he said. "Could you perhaps repair the rest of the ground?"

I sighed and carried on placing dirt wherever I walked. Soon, the ground was looking like a great sea of dirt with a few spots of grass dotted around. Then it started raining, and the top of the dirt turned into mud.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the strange pole maker exclaimed, again and again. It seemed everyone just wanted to annoy me.

I built a small shelter around Ollie and Tom, who were still out cold, in order to protect them from the oncoming night. As the sun travelled below the horizon and I finished placing the last block of my own shelter, I decided to find out a little bit more about the pole maker, who was whistling beside the sea of mud. I carefully approached and asked, "So, err... what's your name?"

"Oh, hi, my name is Asa!" he said happily and carried on whistling to himself. Something about the tune was familiar... and then I realised it was 'I Can Swing My Sword'. Again.

I rushed into my shelter and locked the door.

A few hours later, I heard some terrible screams from my friends' shelter. I quickly hurried out and launched myself on top of their roof, where I broke a wood block and peered inside.

A few thousand zombies stared back up at me.


End file.
